... 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER 
him in explanation that “ she presumed he did not 
know what he was doing.” 
“Yes I do know, too,” said he; “I was helping 
Nellie Marshall weed her flowers. She’s beau¬ 
tiful, isn't 6he?” 
“Beautiful!” repeated Mrs. Mortimer, in cold, 
measured tones,” if to be blowzy, vulgar and igno¬ 
rant is beautiful, then I suppose she is.” 
“What do you mean?” asked Frank, sitting 
down his coffee cap so quickly as to threaten the 
destruction of the gilded china. “Nellie is 
neither vulgar nor ignorant. Why, I learned 
more of botany from a few moments’ conversation 
with her than I ever learned before in my whole 
life. I don’t believe you know her.” 
A contemptuous toss of the head, and Mrs. Mor¬ 
timer replied, “I know that her grandmother is 
a tailored and works for the bread which they eat 
from day to day.” 
“And isn’t that just what I’ve got to do or 
starve?” interrupted Frank, to whom his mother's 
straitened circumstances were no secret. 
“Frank Mortimer!” exclaimed the indignant 
lady, lifting up her thin, jeweled hand. " No more 
of this:— Nellie Marshall is not a lit associate 
for one of your station, aud it is my command, re¬ 
member I say command, that you go no more near 
her.” 
Now if Frank knew the ten commandments, and 
it is most likely that lie did, for his mother was 
strict in those matters,—hut I say if he knew them, 
he probably never laid much stress upon the only 
one with promise, for that very afternoon found 
him at the brown cottage, reading aloud to Nel¬ 
lie, while she sewed the long seam in a pair of 
sheep’s grey pants, which her grandmother was 
making for a neighbor. The next day it was 
the Bame, aud the next and the next, until 
at last the lady of the Homestead, ascertaining 
the cause of her son's long absence from her 
side, forbade him ever again to see the beauti¬ 
ful Nellie. But such is human nature that 
his mother’s opposition only increased the ardor 
of Frank’s attachment, and when six months af¬ 
terwards old Mrs. Marshall died, leaving Nellie 
alone in the wide world, he expended all his pow¬ 
ers of eloquence in trying to persuade her iuto a 
clandestine marriage. “’Twas but a few hours' 
ride to the West,” he said, “and she would be his 
forever.” 
But to this Nellie turned a deaf ear, and for 
many a weary month she toiled on alone in the 
brown cottage, which was now her own. At last 
her extreme beauty attracted the attention of Maj. 
Southey, wlio was endeavoring to repair the rav¬ 
ages of time and dissipation by breathing for a 
few weeks the pure mountain air c/f Meadow 
Brook. Finding that she sustained herself by 
sewing, he became suddenly impressed with the 
necessity of having some parts of his wardrobe 
replenished, and accordingly a huge bundle of 
linen found its way to the brown cottage, whither 
the Major himself went almost daily, ostensibly to 
carry a spool of thread, a row of buttons, or to 
give some new directions, but in reality to watch 
the deepening bloom on Nellie’s cheek and the 
light in her lustrous blue eyes, for the cold man of 
the world was touched at last, and though there 
was naught in common between them, though he 
might well have been her father, he conceived the 
idea of making her his wife, never doubting bnt 
she would gladly link her destiny with his, for she 
was poor, while he was rich, and he knew no other 
distinction. How then was he surprised when. 
And verily ’tis a dreadful thing,— a parent’s 
curse,— be the provocation what it may, and so 
Frank Mortimer found it. Wholly unused to toil, 
lie was poorly fitted to cope with the trials attend¬ 
ant upon a life in a new country, hut whatever he 
could do, he did, working from the rising of the 
sun until its setting, that Nellie might be warmed 
and fed. But there was a withering blight upon 
him. for his mother’s words rang in his ears, and 
as one by one his letters came back to him unread, 
as poverty stared him in the face and troubles 
thickened around his pathway, hope died out from 
his heart, his arm lost its strength, his spirits their 
will to do, and when the first snows of winter fell 
upon their rude log cabin, and Nellie, with a 
forced smile of cheerfulness baked and placed be¬ 
fore him the coarse corn cake, the last remaining 
food they had, he turned away to hide the tears he 
would not let bar see him shed. A few days more 
and lie took his bed, while Nellie, with a strength 
of mind of which wonwin only is capable, toiled 
on alone, nursing him with unwearied care and 
doing whatever her hands found to do. 
A year or more before her grandmother’s death 
she had at different intervals tried her powers at 
writing, for which she possessed a talent, and there 
was now in her portfolio an unfinished story of 
nearly one hundred pages. It was called good by 
those who had seen it, and as she one night sat by 
her fireside pondering in her mind what she could 
do to keep them from starvation during the long 
winter, she thought of the story and a new hope 
was kindled In her bosom 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
“SIC TRANSIT GLORIA MUNDI.” 
To the Little Folks. — Among the many im¬ 
provements observable in the Rural for 1867, our 
juvenile readers will doubtless notice the enlarge¬ 
ment of their “Corner.” Our little friends were 
bo numerous that it became a matter of necessity 
to give them ampler space, and they may consider 
themselves entitled to a column,—provided always, 
as the lawyers say, that they have something wor¬ 
thy to Bay and do therein. The general tenor of 
this department, for interest and value, is in their 
keeping—it is far them to make (heir portion of the 
RuKALenliveningandinspiriting—to spread week¬ 
ly before “Young America” a “ feast of leason and 
a flow of soul.” 
Little prattler, you are not too young to contrib¬ 
ute your mite, nor you,— though daily expecting 
and anxiously looking for the “tokens of manhood 
on yonr chin” — so large or so old that such occu¬ 
pation will compromise your dignity. Age and 
youth can work together here and furnish such 
repast, that those partaking thereof shall receive 
vivifying and strengthening mental and moral 
food. We have an abiding faith in the ability of 
all to perform such duty as will be acceptable and 
agreeable—will they labor head and heart for the 
“Corner?” 
AN EPISTLE TO THE EDITOR, 
Being quite young and somewhat rash, 
And furthermore juat out of cash, 
Good Mr. Moore, I fool inclined 
To ope to you my burdened mind. 
Your Rural, Sir, has for some time 
Been tempting me to send a rhyme. 
But being of a modest turn, 
I (eared lest you my verse might spurn. 
At last, my quill impatient grown 
Hud well nigh from my lingers flown, 
’Till, in despair, I stayed its flight 
By promise sure, this day to write. 
Now what it wants to know, is this— 
It you would take it quite amiss 
Should rasiden young, with playful muse, 
Send every week some hit of news. 
What in return, Sir, would you give ? 
For maiden young, and muse, must live— 
On something more than fancy’s food 
When sinking down in hungry mood. 
I’ll ne’er aspire to poet’s lamp 
Or seek to win a lofty name. 
But if an easy rhyme should chance 
From my young quill to skip and dance, 
And I should send it, quick ns light, 
To you all cased in paper white. 
What bargain, think you, could we make, 
As children say, “ to give and take ?” 
Now, if you do not seorn me quite, 
May I not find by Friday night 
A letter in the post for me 
Directed to Miss I). J, P. ? 
Brooklyn, L. I., 1867. 
BY MISS E. C. WOOLSTON. 
Who hath this surety; that a heart 
In all the world would mourn, 
If he with weary foot had crossed 
The threshold of that bourne 
No traveler returns;—if the lips 
That seein to cherish me, 
Toss uow the magic of my name 
Upon the wasting eea, 
Earth hath no mourning ;—she hath stored 
No sigh, no groan, no tear j 
She smiles and smiles, but looks unmoved 
Upon a lonely bier. 
Full well 1 know, that wealth can far 
Outspread the eagle's wing 
Upon the road to hearts ; and fame 
Such halo round us fling 
As makes our coffined greatness wear 
More robes than earthly trust; 
And every grave of genius seem 
The goal of human dust. 
I know that reverently falls 
The foot, where sculptured word 
Proclaims the departed’s worth, 
And often is it heard, 
How broad tiio acres grew for him, 
High, high his coffers piled, 
How brightly, o’er bis prosp’rous life 
The star of fortune smiled. 
And they who die, for lofty thoughts 
And noble deeds renowned;— 
Death only celebrates their birth. 
They triumph o’er the ground. 
But oli, if loving hearts will make 
Bright paths for me to tread, 
It matters not how small a world 
Repeats this, “ She is dead.” 
NOW LIVING. 
others had lived by 
writing and why should not she — she could try at 
least, and if she failed she would he no worse for if. 
Frank, to whom her project was made known, 
warmly approved the plan, saying, while the hectic 
bloom deepened on bis check, "and with the 
money, Nellie, you’ll lake me home.” 
He was helpless now as a little child, aud at the 
thought of going home he wept aloud. Here was 
a new incentive for Nellie, and night after night, 
while her husband slept, she crouched upon the 
hearthstone, and liy the flickering firelight, for 
candles she could not afford, wrote on and on, un¬ 
til the stars, which through more than one wide 
crevice had kept their watch above her, grew pale 
in the morning light. Bolstered up in bed with 
Nellie’s shawl wrapped round him, Frank copied 
what she wrote, and then, when it was done and 
sent, away, oh, how impatiently they waited for the 
answer, which was to decide whether Frank’s 
grave should be among hia native hills, where hia 
mother’s tears would, perchance, wipe out the 
harsh words she had spoken, or on the great west¬ 
ern prairie, where the howl of the wolf was some¬ 
times heard, and where even Nellie would not 
long remain to weep over his last resting place. 
A coTEMrouAKY says that the hoy is now living 
who will he President of the Republic in 1900.— 
What his name is, or where he resides, he does not 
stop to inform us. Ho may at this moment be 
gathering pumpkins in Oregon’, or pedling pop¬ 
corn around Troy. Wherever he may be, all un¬ 
conscious of his high destiny, he feels the divinity 
that stirs within him, and grasps his book, thirst¬ 
ing for knowledge. His parents, as they answer 
his endless queries, rejoice at his developing in¬ 
tellect, yet little dream that his will be a great 
name among men, known wide as the world. 
Or perchance the hard hand of poverty, or the 
cold band of orphanage, are moulding and train¬ 
ing him for the patient effort, thatself-reliance and 
resolute will that lit him for great achievements. 
He must pass through the school that prepares 
him for his high career. In his youth, many atrial 
and wrong must break him to the hardness of life. 
In his manhood, many hardships must be endured, 
many obstacles overcome, and rivals outstripped 
in the race; the voice of envy and detraction 
despised: hatred and malice defied. 
Through such a school and training the Presi¬ 
dent of 1900 will doubtless come, and is now com¬ 
ing. But from what condition in life, from what 
part or our broad land, no one can predict or know 
but Providence, who presides over the destinies of 
all nations. 
Definition of a Husband _ The English lan¬ 
guage is a very copious one! If we had not been 
previously aware of the fact, it would have been 
made evident to our understanding by reading the 
following paragraph in a Scotch paper: 
“What is a husband?” 
Hear a lady’s definition: 
“lie is,” said she, “a snarling, crusty, sullem 
testy, forward, cross, gnifly, moody, crabbed, snap¬ 
pish, tart, splenetic, surly, dry, brutish, fierce # 
morose, waspish, currish, boorish, fretful, peevish, 
huffish, sulky,'touchy, fractious, rugged, blustering, 
captious, illnatured, rusty, churlish, growling, 
maundering, uppisli, stern, gratish, frumpish, humor- 
some, envious dog in the manger, who neither eats 
himself nor lets others eat.” 
[ Entered according to Aet of ConpTOSs. In the year 1S57, by P 
D. T. Moore, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for 
the Northern District of New York.] 
THE MORTIMER HOMESTEAD, 
BY MRS. MARY J. HOLMES. 
Away to the eastward, on a sunny hill-side which 
overlooks the placid waters of the Chicopee and 
the bright green meadow through which it flows, 
stands the quiet rural village of Meadow Brook,_ 
once my home, and still the spot towards which 
memory ever points me when from the past I 
would weave a tale, of either joy or sorrow’. And 
now, as 1 sit me down to write, my mind wanders 
back to the old grey walls and massive iron gate 
of the Mortimer Homestead, which stands on the 
bank of the river, and just at the foot of the long 
hill which leads from the village to the valley below. 
When I was a little child it was a cheerless, som¬ 
bre old mansion, surrounded by maples and elms, 
whose huge branches swept against, the upper win 
dows, from which the heavy shutters were seldom 
removed. Even the woodbine and ivy which crept 
over the damp stone walls seemed to gather a 
darker hue from the gloom of their surroundings, 
while the river, which elsewhere murmured cheeri¬ 
ly, was said to take a sadder tone as it passed the 
old homestead, whose terraced garden came down 
to its very edge. About the building there was 
seldom heard the sound of laughter or the hum of 
voices, for these did not accord with the nature of 
the stately woman who ruled there as its mistress, 
and to whom the villagers, unconsciously perhaps, 
paid homage as the last relic of an old aristocratic 
family, which traced its lineage back to the courtly 
halls of England. And this in fact was nearly all 
of which the proud lady had to boast, for the vast 
possessions of the Mortimers had gradually wasted 
away until there was nothing left save the Home¬ 
stead, and even that was mortgaged for more than 
its real worth. 
But this in no wise tended to humble Mrs. Mor¬ 
timer, who, with poverty knocking at her portals, 
still managed to present to the world, though in a 
dilapidated state, the same air of wealth which in 
her palmiest daj’s she had done. Twice eveiy 
year she issued cards for a fashionable dinner 
party, where were displayed the cut-glass and sil¬ 
ver which had graced the tabic of the Mortimer 
who, across the water, had sat in the halls of Par¬ 
liament and bore the title of Sir. Regularly, too, 
each Saturday she ordered out what was ouce her 
“ coach aud four,” but which had now degenerated 
to a coach and one, the carriage having been fixed 
and re-fixed to suit the number of its horses. If 
this " coming down” affected the inner life of the 
lady, it was not perceptible in her outer demeanor, 
—for, with a step as proud as ever, she gathered up 
the folds of her well preserved satin, and, sinking 
among the faded velvet cushions, gave her orders 
to the driver, who in deferential silence received 
and obeyed her commands. 
Occasionally she was accompanied in her rides 
by her only child, a young man, who at the time 
when our story opens was about nineteen years of 
age. Not often, however, did Frank favor his 
mother with his presence, either in his carriage or 
elsewhere, for upon scarcely onet hing did they think 
alike,—lie being purely democratic in bis tastes 
and feelings, while she, with her aristocratic no¬ 
tions, was in a continual fever of excitement lest 
in 6ome way he should bring disgrace upon the 
name lie bore, and this,in her estimation, beseem¬ 
ed qnite likely to do. 
A little way down the river, and just across Mrs. 
Mortimer’s garden, stood the brown cottage of j 
Widow Marshall, 
Bad Colds. —Almost everybody has a hard cold 
about now, Smith and Jones at^iong the rest. A 
street-corner dialogue between them, sounded 
something like this: 
Smith —How d’ye do, Jodes ? 
Jones —Pretty bwell, ody I have a bad code. 
How are you, Smith ? 
Smith —r have subthig of a code too, but i^s 
getting bwell agil. 
Jones —What bedicil did you take ? 
Smith —I snuffed up laudabub al bwater. Do 
you take adything? 
Jones —Do, I just grid ad bear it 
For Moore’s Rural Now-Yorker 
ANCIENT HISTORICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of thirty letters. 
My 4,11,17, 21, 27, 28,15,16 was a king of Ethiopia. 
My 3, 20, 9, 19 was the first writer of Fables. 
My 2], 12,18, 27, 2,29, 30 enacted a law for loaning 
money. 
My 11,20, 1, 5, 21, 7, 3, 4 was a king of Lydia. 
My 27,11, 22,17,18,4, 24,20 was the father of Cyrus 
the Great. 
My 19, 20, 30, 21 was the place of Chilo’s death. 
My 17, 2(5, 21,30 was one of the wise men of Greece. 
My 11, 14. 13, 4, 1G, 21 was Cyrus’ daughter. 
My 23, 6, 7, 21,17, 18, 12, 29, 4 married King Ar- 
toxorxos’ sister. 
My 30,11,22,9, 20 was the birthplace of Pythagoras. 
My 13, 27, 28, 15, 4 was a king of Persia. 
My 11, 7, 20, 20 was a king of Sparta. 
My 9, 21, 27, 27, 28, 15, 4 was an Athenian God. 
My 1, 11, 27, 20, 25, 29, 30 was an ancient writer. 
My 4, 8, 15, 1, 28, 3,16 was a Prince of Thrace. 
My 10, 21, 23, 24 was the height of Alexander’s 
ambition. 
My Whole is the longest siege recorded in history 
and by whom conducted. 
Bunker Hill, January, 1857. C. E. E. 
a?“* Answer next week. 
Good Practical Advice. —Be content as long as 
your mouth is full and body covered: remember 
the poor: kiss the pretty girls, don’t rob your 
neighbor’s hen roost: never pick an editor’s 
pocket, nor entertain an idea that he is going to 
treat: kick dull care to the deuce: black your own 
boots: sew on your own buttons, and be sure to 
take a paper aud pay for it. 
A Country lass, returning from the field on be¬ 
ing told by her cousin that she looked as fresh as 
a daisy kissed with dew, ejaculated: — “Well it 
wasn’t any feller of that name. ’Twas Zcke Jones 
that kissed me, and confound bis pictur, I told him 
everybody would find it out.” 
An honest Dutchman, on being asked how often 
he shaved, replied:—“Dree dimes a veckeffery tay 
but Soontay; den T shafe effery tay.” 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
TUB LEADING WEEKLY 
agricultural, literary a.mj family journal, 
18 CUHUSHKD Kvr.RV SATURDAY 
MY I». I*. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, ft. X. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker 
ENIGMATICAL STORY. 
In 16, 23 upon 1 time 20, 9,10, 17, 23 lived in a 
13, 18, 20, 8, 13, 23 village a 19,12, 3, 22, old man 
and 11, 18, 15 w ife 8, 11, 23, 14 had a small 16,13, 
8, 20,1, !>, 1(1. About 7, 8, 21, 17 miles from the 
2, 1, 19, 18, 8, 1, 13—20, 11, 23, 5 lived alone and 7. 
10.13, 20 quite IS, 12, in, 23, 13,14. But it was a 4, 
13, 10, 1, 15, 21, 17, 23 to look 1, 3, 22, w, 1, 17 d to 
8, 11, 10 visits of 20, 9, 23, 18, 17 grandson 2,11,1 
22.13, 10, 15 who was 1, 8 the 16, 18, 20, 5 in a 
priuting 6, 7, 7, 18, 2, 23, He 6, 7, 20, 23, n, bought 
them 4, 17, 23, 24, 10, n, 8, 15, bne 24, 21, 13, 8, 22, 
14 day he 15, 21, 22, 19, 17, 18, 24, d, 10, d them by 
a visit and brought 1, 24, a gift of my whole, which 
is composed of 24 letters. 
Brooklyn, N. Y., 1867. Rosalis. 
Answer next week. 
Office, Daily Union Building, Opp. the Court House 
TERMS, IN ADVANCE: 
Subscription— $2 n year—$1 for six months. To Clubs mid 
Agents ns follows:—Three Copies one year, for $5; Six Copies 
(and one to Agent or getter up of club,) for $10; Ten Copies 
(and ono to Agent,) for $15, and any additional number at the 
same rate, ($1.50 per copy.) As we are obliged to pro-pay the 
American postage on papers sent to the British Provinces, our 
Cnnndlan agents and friends must add LiK cents per copy to 
the club rules of the Rural 
Adviutisiko.— Brief and appropriate advertisements will be 
inserted nt 25 cents a line, each Insertion, payable in advance.— 
Our rule is to give no advertisement, unless very brief, more than 
four consecutive insertions. Patent Medicines, Ac., will not be 
advertised in tills pnpur at any price. 
SPECIAL NOTICES, 
There is silence in the prairie cabin, and the low 
window is darkened, from which so oft through 
many a wintery night the glimmering light hits 
shone forth, a beacon to the wayworn traveler.— 
The fire on the hearthstone has gone out, and the 
rode couch in the corner is empty now, for they 
have laid the sick man to rest 'neath the wide- 
spreading branches of the buckeye, where the 
moan of the river and the sigh of tho west wind 
chant a requiem for the loved and lost. Alas for 
thee, poor Nellie, widowed in thy early youth. 
There is no longer need of thy watchful care lest 
the storm wind should breathe upon thy loved one, 
for where he has gone to dwell there is neither 
heat nor cold, and never again shall he know 
hunger, want or pain. 
Clubbing with tub MaCasinks, Ac. We will send the Rural 
New-Yohkkh for 1857, and a yearly copy of either Harper's, 
Oo,ley’s, Graham's or any other $3 mnga/.iue, for $t. The Rural 
and either Arthur's Mayacine, the Salumat Alaejasttu, or any other 
$2 mngur.ino for $3. Tho Rural and either The J’tough, the t.oom 
and IhtAnviHa monthly tnugnHjie devoted to the Industrial Arts, 
Agrlcnltnro, Commercn and Manufactures,) or The JJarticuhv 
nst, for (3. 
«3ri nit Rural 1* published strictly upon tho cash ststim 
— copies are never mnllcd to Individual subscribers until paid 
for, (or ordered by o responsible agent,) ami always discontinued 
when tiro subscription term expires, lienee, a prompt renewal 
is necessary to secure the regular continuance Of tho paper. 
ty In remitting $15, or more. If convenient please send draft 
on New York, Albany, Buffalo, or Rochester, (lees cost of ex¬ 
change,) or check or certificate ot depovit on any Bank In cither 
ot said cities,—payable to our order 
Anv person so disposed can act as local agent ior the 
Rural, without cutUQcate, and each and all who volunteer In 
tho good catisi! will not only receive premiums, hut their aid 
will be gratefully appreciated 
IjF” Ulu« papers are sent to as many different addresses or 
post-ofllcea as requested, and we write tho names of subscribers 
on papets If desired—thus saving Agents and Post-Masters from 
any labor or attention in the premlsos. 
ty Tpusg who are forming large dubs can send on the 
names and money ol such persons ns do not wish to wait, and 
complete tliolr list* afterwards. 
*3“ In ordering the Rural, bo snro and specify name ol 
fast-Office, County, and State, territory or I’rovince. 
TnE mother of evil, the parent of good, 
1 never could eat, yet make all things my food; 
I am grave, I am gay, I am foolish and wise. 
Some men I degrade, while I make others rise. 
Cause pleasure ami Borrow, sweet concord anil strife, 
All things I create, and destroy them — even life! 
T ne’er shall relinquish my station on earth, 
While on it arc found wisdom, folly and worth. 
One hint I’ll give further, then bid you adieu,— 
All this time I am happy in dwelling with you. 
Answer next week. 
who supported bcra-lf and wort18 ot love unu K,uu| y act8 01 sympathy, re- 
grand-daughter, a girl sixteen years of age, by member that you drove me from you. 
plain bow ing and by selling flowers to the numerous * urnc ^ K°> ' JU ^ * n doorway paused, 
city people who spent their eummere at Meadow mlded, "Mother, I do not wish to leave 
Brook. These flowers were uuder the special care Y ou I” anger, and even now, if you say so, 1 will 
of Nellie, herself the fairest of them all, and sta y” 
when Frank, on the first morning after his return Leave me at once and forever,” was her answer, 
from College, espied her in the garden with her aml he left her,—seeking for himself and bride a 
straw flat and dark brown curls, both hanging home at the West 
down her back, he became at once interested, and From that time forth Mrtj. Mortimer never of 
as he knesv no rules of etiquette save the prompt- her own accord alluded to her son, and when his 
ingB of his own kind heart and social nature, he letters, which at first came regularly, were handed 
forthwith made her acquaintance, greatly to the her, she ordered them to be returned unopened, 
horror of his mother, who, when Bhe learned of “I have no wish to read wlmt I already know,” she 
his whereabouts, ordered the breakfast bell to be would say; “he has my curse, and with that he 
rung a full half hour before the time, saying to cannot prosper.” 
[Continued on page 10, this No.] 
My first is a man; my second is used in war 
my total is a town in North Carolina. 
Answer next week. 
The World. —The little I have seen of the world, 
teaches me to look upon the errors of others in 
sorrow, not in anger. When I take the history of 
one poor heart that has sinned and suffered, and 
represent to myself the struggles and temptations 
it has passed through; the brief pulsations of joy; 
the feverish inquietude of hope and fear; the 
pressure of want; the desertion of friends; I would 
fain leave the erring soul of my fellow man with 
Him from whose hand it came.— Longfellow. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma in No. 365 
Starch. 
Answer to Charade in No. 365:—Mouse. 
Non-8ub8CBi»*Rs who receive this number of tho Rural 
Niw-Yorkkk arc Invited to Rive it a careful examination, and, 
If approved, lend their kind offices to Introduce the paper to the 
notice and support of thulr friends and acquaintances. 
Moderation is commonly firm, and firmness is 
commonly successful. 
